You Catholic Girls
by The Elfmaniac
Summary: [ preRENT ] Roger finds a girl whom he thinks he can help become, well, 'cool'. Is this really a wise decision? RogerOC, RogerApril, other pairings mentioned.
1. Prologue

**My first Roger fic, really.**

-pats him-

I don't own RENT. I don't own Roger. I do own Libby Majoy, Jeffery Kuzinski, and whomever else I may have as a brainchild.

Mrawr, beholddd. 

**A prologue.**

* * *

_Come out Virginia, don't let me me wait!  
You Catholic girls start much too late.  
But sooner or later it comes down to fate,  
I might as well be the one..  
They showed you a statue and told you to pray,  
They built you a temple and locked you away,  
But they never told you the price that you pay:  
For things that you might have done...  
Only the good die young!_

You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd,  
We ain't too pretty, we ain't too proud,  
We might be laughing a bit too loud!  
But that never hurt no one..  
Come on Virginia show me a sign,  
Send up a signal I'll throw you the line,  
The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind..  
Never lets in the sun!  
And only the good die young!

You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation!  
You got a brand new soul..  
And a cross of gold!  
But Virginia they didn't give you quite enough information:  
You didn't count on me;  
When you were counting on your rosary!

They say there's a heaven for those who will wait!  
Some say it's better but I say it ain't:  
I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints!  
Sinners are much more fun...  
And only the good die young!

You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation!  
She never cared for me..  
But did she ever say a prayer for me?

Come out, come out, come out, don't make me wait!  
You Catholic girls start much too late;  
But sooner or later, when it comes down to fate,  
I might as well be the one..  
And only the good die young!

-Only The Good Die Young, Billy Joel

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**Haha, the song that inspired me to write this fic.  
First chapter will be up soon, I hope**

As you can see, this fic will most likely have Joel lyrics as the sort of preface to the chapters. No Boingo, I think. :3


	2. The One at Lunch

**First official chapter, I guess.**

I don't own RENT. Thank you, Johnathon Larson. We miss you.

* * *

_Here I am again,_

In this smoky place.

With my brandy eyes..

I'm talking to myself.

Maybe you're the one.

-You Were the One

* * *

She was sitting all alone again.

Roger didn't quite see why. She was pretty enough. She had straight brown hair that she always kept out of her eyes, those which were a sort of pale blue. She didn't wear make-up, but her cheeks seemed to have a sort of natural rosy tinge to them.A simplecross hung around her neck, part of the chain dipping into the creavase of her collarbone. She had a regular white long-sleeved shirt with a sort of..peasant-like white skirt. That had a cross embroidered in the corner of it. She had on boots..that was the best thing to call those things.

He hadn't seen her in his classes, so he assumed she was younger. He, after all, was a senior this year.

Roger looked at his friends for a moment; there was Jeff and Seymour and Mark. Mark was younger than them, by about two years..maybe he knew.  
The dirty-blonde elbowed the blonde's ribs.

"Mark.. who's that?" he asked after a moment. Mark coughed, obviously aggravated that he had been torn away from some meaningless conversation with Seymour; Seymour was lighting up a joint though, and the smoke hit Roger's nose with such force that it nearly knocked him over.

"That's..that's Libby. She's in my Math and Science and English," he observed, adjusting his glasses a bit to get a better look. She looked at them with a disapproving and sort if irate glare, and Roger averted his green eyes.  
"Oh. Why does she always sit alone? I always see herat the same bench at lunch," pressed Roger.  
"She's not exactly the most popular," Mark replied with a shrug as Seymour broke into a fit of giggles.  
"Well. I'm going to go talk to her."  
"..have you ever noticed butterflies?" Seymour interjected, laughing a bit louder. Mark rolled his eyes and turned to him, and they seemed to go into another sort of meaningless and thoughtless dialogue.

Roger slowly ambled over to her, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans.  
"Hey," he said casually.  
"If you're here to criticize me, go away," she told him, crossing her legs and turning away. The skirt swirled about her ankles at this action, lightly swaying in the breeze that came about.  
"Oh, no. I'm here to..keep you company."  
"That what _he _said," Libby replied indignantly, jabbing her thumb at Seymour. He was slowly coming down, though still giggled feebly in the small alley behind the school.  
"Oh. I'm Roger," he replied, matter-of-factly.  
"I'm Libby. I guess it's nice to meet you."  
"Yeah..yeah. Look, how'd you like to make some friends?" Roger said suddenly. He didn't know why, but he wanted to make this girl..popular. Something about hre screamed that she hadn't had friends in a very long time.  
"...what?" she asked, blinking.  
"Look, I'll make you get some friends. I'll make you cool. You'll have a rad couple of last years at this shithole."  
Libby gritted her teeth a bit as he said the last word, but was otherwise silent throughout his proposition.  
"Why'd you want to do that for me?" she asked.  
"Well. I dunno. I thought you might..well, if you don't--"  
"No, no. That sounds. Generous of you."  
"Awesome. Now, we'll change everything about you. Clothes, attitude.."  
"..everything?" she repeated, looking rather frightened all of the sudden.  
"Most of it. Have a boyfriend?"  
"No."  
"We'll change that, too."

Roger had a stupid grin that said, 'Look at me, I' m grinning. It means good things are going to happen, you moron'.

"Okay," she said sullenly. "I don't think my mother will like this, though.."  
"Well, whatever. Don't worry."

Roger sat next to her on the bench. She shifted away a bit.

"So, I'll help you become cool. I'll get you a boyfriend, I'll tell you what to say, I'll show you what to do.."  
"You'll be like a Cyrano for me?"  
"..okay. Rule one, don't make references to books."  
"It's a _play,_" Libby huffed.  
"Whatever. We've got a long way to go," Roger sighed.

For the rest of the lunch period, they talked. When they bell rang, they parted ways and made plans to meet again at lunch tomorrow.

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**Moves a bit fast, I know.  
Interviewed my parents on highschool experiences, and they said stuff like this could happen relatively quick. :3**

R&R. I won't get mad.


	3. Trusting King Roger

**Okay, yeah.**

Went on a writing spree; I'm being so creative.

I want reviews eventually, though. xD

Rawr, on with the chapterrrrrr.

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_  
This time you've got nothing to lose._

You can take it, you can leave it,

Whatever you choose...

I won't hold back anything,

And I'll walk a way a fool or a king.

-Matter of Trust

* * *

"Roger, there's absolutely no way I'm wearing that."

It was the next day at lunch, and he had coaxed her to come with him and his little group. Jeff and Seymour were nodding behind Roger, a sort of glint in their eyes. Mark was merely watching with that odd way. the way he observed things.

"It's not that bad, and it's only until the end of the day. Trust me, come on!" he pleaded, shaking the item of clothing that was in his hands, arms out in front of her.  
Dangling from his closed fist was a light pink sleeveless shirt, a sort of low cut around the neck. He had rifled through his sister's possessions last night, and had come upon this. It had seemed like a good-enough first step.

She was wearing relatively the same thing, although her shirt was a faded grey today, and the gold cross wasn't around her neck. It had been confiscated by Roger until the end of the day, as well.  
Actually, what he had done was have Seymour hold her arms so she couldn't fight. It was in his pocket now, safe and sound.

"Roger, I can't. I've never worn pink before.."

"Well, maybe a toddler-step, then. Come on. It's only for a few hours, I promise," Roger cooed, letting the shirt sway in his hands a bit.

"..I don't know if even agreeing to letting you help me was a good idea," she said uneasily, looking warily at him and the shirt. Libby slowly reached a hand out, grabbing it. "Let me go try it on, though.." she finished, stalking off. Everyone looked after her for a moment.

"Man, you'll be like the king at school if you can get her changed!" announced Seymour, running a hand through his already horrendously messy brown locks. He flicked his blue eyes to the ground and his khakis, sliding a hand into his pocket. He was wearing a sort of sweater, almost Mark-esque in style.

"Yeah, I know," said Roger, grinning a bit.

They waited for about five minutes before Libby came out again, looking a bit disgruntled. She had gotten changed into it, and really, she looked quite lovely in it. It hugged her curves and assets in all the right ways, and kind of accented her cheeks. Her collarbone jutted out a bit more visably, and the beginning of cleavage could be seen from the low neckline.  
She crossed her lithe arms, glaring at Roger.

"I don't look good in it."  
"What the _hell _are you talking about?" scoffed Jeff. "You look damn sexy--"  
"Watch your mouth!" she said, frowning a bit at him.  
"Guys, hold on. There's one more thing," Roger said, holding his arms out a bit. He dug through his pockets, coming out with a white scrunchie. "Put your hair back..but not really tight. Do it a bit..messy, you know?" he said, sticking it into her arms.  
She looked at him suspiciously before doing so. She put it back in a sloppy bun, hairs falling into her face before she brushed them behind her ears.  
"There, you're beautiful!" exclaimed Roger, the grin still stuck on his face. "Tomorrow, though, we'll get some new pants. We'll skip an--"  
"Wait..skip?" she repeated, looking horrified at the thought. "Roger, I can't!"  
"You will, okay? We're all going to. Even Mark. And we'll go out to the mall and get a whole new look for you. Then, we'll slowly edge you into a new attitude. Got it?"  
"Well, I mean..I guess.." she stuttered out, still looking a bit scared.

The bell rang.

"See you after school," Roger said, waving as she and Mark went off to English. Seymour, Jeff, and he went to Gym.

After school, they met in the sort of student-lobby; she looked a bit happier.  
"Roger, Roger, you were right! I made two new friends!" Libby said proudly, flinging herself at him and giving him a big hug. "Can I have my other clothes back, though? If my mother sees me in..this..she'll positively kill me!" she finished, taking a step back and holding her hands out.

"What? Oh, yeah, here," he replied sheepishly, going to his locker quickly. He got her the old shirt, and she skipped off to the bathroom. She changed and gave him the pink shirt that had done wonders for her self-esteem. "Can I ha--"  
She was cut off as a car honked outside.  
"Libby! Libby Jane!" called a sort of shrill voice. Roger gave her the cross, and she put it on hastily, taking down her hair. She kept the scrunchie at her wrist, casting him a glance before rushing out to the small car.

Roger watched her, head replaying what she had said and done.  
Wow.  
This was progressing fast.  
He was proud of himself. He could even be considered King of the World at this very moment in time.

May King Roger's reign continue, he thought.

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**Kay, that's that.  
R&R, pleaseeee.**


	4. A Minor Variation

**Fweeay. Reviews! **

-happy Erin-

Anywho, on with this chapter.

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_And it's a strange thing, _

'Cause now it don't really matter.

More of the same thing,

Don't even hurt --it's a part of the pattern.

But still, in all, it's a small consolation..

I just define it as a minor variation.

_-A Minor Variation_

_

* * *

_

"Roger, are you sure about this?"

She was nervous and jittery, arms across her stomach to quell any nausea. Libby looked as if she was about to hurl, standing in front of his car.

It was safe, though. A convertable, dull red paint..it was his baby. It was his pride and joy, really. Roger adored that car to no end.

"Come on. We skip all the time!" proclaimed Jeff, sliding into the back of the car. He sat with his legs in the seat, body actually on the back of it. Libby was worried about that-- what if he fell off or something? He'd just go flying right into the road and be hit by the next car or something.

"Come on, babe. It's n--" started Seymour, cut off by a glare.

"_Don't_ call me that," she said dangerously, crossing her arms. Libby was back in her regular clothes, though had pulled her hair back today. Roger was a bit pleased she could at least do that without a face or anything like that.

"Fine. Whatever," he murmured back, sliding next to Jeff. Mark eyed them both suspiciously before also taking a seat on the top, nails already digging into the leather of the seat.  
"Yeah, come on, Libby," Roger said, going into the driver's seat. She stood there, like a statue, watching all of them.  
"I don't know..what if we get caught? What if my--"  
"Just don't worry; come on."

It took a bit more time, but she eventually went into the front seat, hands reaching for the seatbelt that wasn't there. This was a '57 Cheverolet-- that meant, unfortunately, no seatbelt.

"Wait, where's the seatbelt?" she asked in a sort of hushed tone.

"Erm, there are none," said Roger as he started the ignition. Before she could protest any more, he floored it, and off they sped to the mall.

--

"Come on, it can't be _that _bad."

They had been waiting for about five minutes, staring at the dressing room she was in. They had given her a few things to try on, and she hadn't come out yet. From what she reported, she was wearing a pair of jeans and a sleeveless light-blue shirt that was lower than the cut she had yesterday.

"If I go home with these clothes, my mother will kill me."

Roger sighed, standing up straight from the wall he had been leaning on. He went over to the dressing room, peering over the top. She had been taking off the shirt in a sort of angry way, throwing it at him when she saw his eyes.

"Roger! Don't do that!" she said shrilly. "You could have.."

"Seen you in your bra? I kind of did," Roger replied through a smirk.

"Eugh, get your mind out of the gutter."

After maybe ten more minutes, she came back in her normal clothes, a few things tucked under her arm. Roger could see two pairs of jeans and a light-colored shirt, but it looked like Libby had a few more things rolled into the jeans or something.

"There, I bought clothes. Okay? Wardrobe done," she said hurriedly, rushing up to the counter and reaching down into her boot. Libby came out with some money, shoving it into the clerk's hands before dashing back over to them.

"Now, can we go back t-"

"LIBBY. JANE. MAJOY."

"-o school?"

She hung her head low as a sort of short woman came in, a bit chunky, as well. She had on a sort of long skirt as well, a heavy and rather ugly brown jacket on her torso. Her face was round and flushed, dark brown eyes flashing. Her black hair was combed back into a tight bun, making her look all the more severe.

"Why aren't you at school?" the woman hissed, grabbing her by the arm.

"Mother, I..well..it was just a minor variation to m--"

"Libby Jane, do not give me that. You are coming _straight_ home this instant!"

Her eyes flicked over Roger, Seymour, Jeff, and Mark, eyes becoming even more narrowed as they darted back to her daughter.

"And, with boys? Libby, you are not a _whore._ You and your father and I will have a _long _talk about this tonight!" Mrs. Majoy hissed, pulling on her arm. Libby nearly stumbled, but kept her head hung as she was dragged off by an irate woman.

"..oh. Uh, guys..maybe we..uh..should.." Seymour started, obviously at a loss for words.

The four of them stood, all with sort of befuddled looks on their faces. They stayed at the mall the rest of the day, then went home afterwards.

Roger knew his reign had been short lived. He also knew that it had probably been a bad idea to even talk to Libby.

Those Catholic Girls..they started with this sort of stuff too late, it seemed.

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**  
Fweeay.  
Maybe another update later tonight, too.**


	5. Movin' Out

**Hey, guys. **

Look..I want to say..thanks, again. You guys are just..you guys are too cool, okay?

Alright.

This chapter..well, I got a little help from my friends on this one.  
Plot-wise, you know? Thanks Taylor, Jack, Nick. You guys rock. :)

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_You should never argue with a crazy mind:_

_You oughta know by now.. _

And it seems like a waste of time!

If that's what it's all about..

Mama, if that's movin' up, then I'm...movin' out.

_-Movin' Out_

_

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_

Dinner with the Majoys was not a very..eh, happy occasion.

Libby stared at her food, Annette glared daggers at her, and the father, Maxwell, merely watched both of them.

"Libela, what is it your mother tells me? Whoring..skipping.." he started, moving his hands in an immediately lost gesture. He stared dumbly at his daughter, hoping for an answer.

"I'm not three. Call me 'Libby', not that nickname," she started through gritted teeth. "And, I wasn't acting like a _whore_. I was having fun with my friends."

"Yes, say that, Libby. But when you're burning in Hell for acting like the Whore of Babylon, I will do nothing but watch you from the pearly gates," said Annette curtly, dabbing daintily at her lips with a napkin.

"I am _not _going to burn in Hell. _You_are. For being a Goddamn fu--"

Annette was up in a flash, hand down upon Libby's cheek in an open-handed slap. There was a hollow sound, followed by utter silence. Libby's fingers inched up to rest upon the heated flesh, eyes widening at her mother. This was..her mother had never hit her before.  
Uh-oh.

"Pack your things."  
"..excuse me?"  
"Libby, pack your..one moment."

Annette her position hovering over her daughter, running up the stairs as fast as her legs would carry her. There was a loud clatter and rustle until, about four minutes later, she came down with a suitcase. It was filled with Liby's clothes.

"You are moving out. I will not stand by and idly watch you drag us down like Satan," her mother said, throwing the suitcase to the ground. Libby stared.  
"I'm only sixteen. This can't be legal!"  
"It is," she said gravely, nodding in the same manner. "Now, get out."  
"..what?"  
Libby stood up anyways, eyes still wide as saucers. Annette thrust the suitcase into her hands after picking it up, giving Libby a tiny shove to the door.

"Wait, honey, you can't just.." started Maxwell, trailing off as Libby was roughly pushed out the door, nearly tripping. She was barefoot, though, at least, it was Spring. Not that warm..but still. Spring was, undoubtedly, better than Winter.

"Goodbye."

The front door was slammed shut, leaving a very bewildered Libby. She didn't know where to go.  
But she knew better, now, than to argue with her mother.

Oh, shit.

I mean..

Oh...dear..

--

Libby walked for about thirty minutes, rocks embedded in her feet by now. She gave up, sitting on the curb, putting her face into her hands. A bitter wind blew through, tossing her hair that had been taken down about.  
She didn't have anywhere to go.  
All her relatives lived out of state. Even her brother.  
Damn that Anthony. Damn him to hell.

The realization that she was alone was becoming more and more apparent as the last light from the sky dissapated.  
Libby was frightened. She really was.

She had no-where to go now.

And, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she was thinking that..maybe..maybe this was Roger's fault.

Speaking of the Devil..

"Hey, Libby?"  
His head was coming out a window a few houses down, and she could vaguely make out that his face, anyways.  
"Yes?"  
"..what're you doing out? It's like. Close to..ten."  
"..and?"  
"What happened?"  
"I, apparently, am no longer permitted in my own house."  
"Oh..well..uh.."  
"I won't blame you. However, you were involved."

Roger began to laugh a bit, looking back inside. He had a dialogue with his own mother before he nodded, mostly to himself.  
"You can stay with us, if you want. My sister's in college, so..yeah. You can have her room."  
"Come on in, dear!" called a sugary voice from inside.

Libby slowly stood up, grabbing at the suitcase, running in without a second thought.

Mrs. Davis was a rather nice woman-- she was lanky, a housewife, and had a perpetual smile on her face. She immediately ushered Libby upstairs, tutting as she saw the mark on her face.  
"Dear me, maybe it is better that you were kicked out! You're welcome to stay with us as long as you wish, sweetheart," she told her, opening Roger's sister's room, closing the door behind Libby. It was a rather, erm, pink room, to be quite frank. Several items of clothing were still in the closets, including that pink top that had boosted her confidence so.

She merely set the suitcase down, got into something better suited for sleep, and snuggled down under the equally pink sheets. Libby flipped over twice, falling asleep after a few moments, head spinning.

Roger couldn't help but feel guilty but relieved at the same time.  
He got her kicked out.  
But now, she lived with him.

..this meant, of course, that there were more chances for, you know..uh..heh. More sessions to help her with becoming cool, right.

Maybe, just maybe, this was movin' up for her.

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**Rawr. Sorry about the delay, guys, and sorry this chapter seems so..despise-ish.  
I hope it's okay. **


	6. Everybody Dreams

**It seems I havea common theme for Everybody Needs and You Catholic Girls now. x3 **

Can't help it.

Oh, and, if I figured it out right, this fic should be done around chapter twenty.

I hope, anyways that it doesn't get too stretched out. :(

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_  
While in these days of quiet desperation, _

As I wander through the world in which I live..

I search everywhere for some new inspiration!  
_  
But it's more than cold reality can give. _

If I need a cause for celebration,

Or a comfort I can use to ease my mind..

I rely on my imagination,

And I dream of an imaginary time.

I know that everybody has a dream,

Everybody has a dream...

-Everybody Has a Dream

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It's Saturday. 

Libby's still asleep, nails digging into the frilly fabric of the pillow. Roger's standing at the door, watching her sleep, amused look on his face. Almost a smirk.

"Liiiiby."

She groans once, rolls over, and buries her head under the pillow. Her hand are still palm-down on the almost disgustingly light pillowcase, pressing down a bit more as she whines something about not wanting to get up. It was, after all, the weekend.

"Come _on_. We havestuff to do!"

"Go. Away. Okay? Okay."

Roger ambled over to her, sitting on the edge of the bed, jostling her leg slightly. She recoiled immediately, scrunching up a bit, nails digging further into the pillow.  
"Come on!"  
"Go _away_."

He slowly slid up to where her head was, getting the pillow away from her grip. Part of the side of her face he saw was turning a sort of purple color from bruising, and he furrowed his brow.  
"Libby, how'd you get that?" he asked after a moment, finers hovering over the mark before he let his hand bounce on the matress.  
"My mother got a little over-excited when I left. Now go away."

Roger let out a drawn-out sigh, throwing his arms up, sauntering out after a moment.

As soon he does, she's out of bed, running over to lock the door. Libby sighed a bit, leaning against the wall and staring out the window. It's a bit overcas outsie, but otherwise a nice, bright sunny day. It'd be perfect if she felt as warm inside as it undoubtedly was outside.

In reality, she felt rather cold and frigid inside, knowing that she'd never quite have that mother-hen figure. Not that Mrs. Davis wasn't wonderful; she was! Really, she was a simply perfect hostess.  
But...but not having a father. That'd be a bit harder, seeing as Maxwell had been a..a..well, a good dad.

She sighed a bit, shuffling back over to the bed and falling onto it gracelessly. Her eyes fluttered close after a moment, head swimming in thought.

She dreamt.

Libby dreamt about how this turn would take her. She imagined that maybe it would bring her and Roger closer. Maybe?  
Nah.  
He could have any girl he wanted.

He only talked to her outof pity, because she looked so very much like a loner. Because, unfortunately, Libby _had_ been.  
The ony friends she had were the teachers, to some extent.

She groaned inwardly, hitting her forehead with her palm, reminding herself that now she had a chance of getting more friends out of pity. It was better than no friends, right?  
..right?

Libby sighed, laying back against the pillow, crossing her lounge-pant clad legs, staring at the ceiling as if the answers to everything was there. All she saw were the maybes and probablies dancing in front of her eyes, nearly mocking her but trying to give her a glimpse into the future nonetheless.

She thought about maybe loving Roger.

She imagined maybe spending the rest of her life with him.

Then, Libby dreamt that it was all ridiculous to think he could love her. It was just..just too far-fetched.

Her eyes closed gently, and she fell asleep with the warm sunlight pouring through the window, desperately trying to get rid of the chill that seemed to hover over her.

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**Kayy.  
Quick updates, I know. But my brain is turning now. **


	7. First Impressions?

**Hey, guys.**

**Heh. Here we go again.**

**TiggPwns-- **_THANK YOU SO FREAKING MUCH, MAIDELEH. If it wasn't for you, I probably would have completely dropped this! THANK YOU._

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_I don't believe in first impressions._

For just this once, I hope that looks don't deceive!

I ain't got time for true confessions.

I've got to make the move right now!

Got to get that girl somehow..

-First Impressions

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"DINNER!"

Libby and Roger had been in their room and watching a movie, respectively.

With a scowl, Roger flipped the movie off, slid from the couch, and came into the dining room with an air of grumpiness about him. However, when he saw the pizza boxes sprawled out on the table, all opened, that mood was quickly dropped.

"Pizza? Hot damn!"

He dove for the green pepper-topped-pizza, putting two pieces on his plate. His mother was no-where to be seen, but the missing cheese pizza pieces marked that she had, indeed, been here.

Libby eventually came down, yawning a bit. She had gotten out of her pajamas, and was in a pair of well-worn jeans and a regulargrey tee-shirt. Apparently, she knew some tricks when it came to jeans; he remembered she had just purchased those yesterday.

He wondered, though, how she had gotten to his garage to get the sandpaper.

Hmm, well, whatever. She looked pretty good like that.

"Welcome back, sleeping beauty."

"Why, a hello and a howdy to you, too, Roger," she sighed, sitting down in the chair opposite to him and grabbing a slice of cheese. Libby put it on her plate, looking at him with an odd expression. "Hey, Roger, how old did you say you were?"

"I didn't. But, I'm eighteen, if you want to know," he told her, pizza in hand, looking disgruntled that the particular slice had gone un-bitten. As soon as he had answered, though, he went at it like someone who hadn't eaten in about ten years.

_Men_, she scoffed inwardly, losing her appetite fast.

"How old are _you_?" he asked after he had swallowed.  
"Sixteen."

There was a lag in conversation, mostly with them staring at eachother.  
"Roger, what're you thinking of doing after you graduate? I mean, it's your senior year, after all," Libby finally offered, leaning back in her chair a bit.  
"Dunno. Be a rockstar. Get a different girl in my bed every night," he said with a cocky grin.  
"...isnt't that..nice..?" she replied, making a face and looking at him as if he was crazy.  
"Well, what about you? You're sophomore. Any ideas?"  
"Well. Mother wanted me to go to a convent. I always wanted to be like..a don't know..a model. Like every other girl. Either that or a teacher or an artist," she mused, looking up at the ceiling with a happy sigh.  
"Sister Libby. Innit that _cute_?" he teased, standing up and stretching a little bit.  
"Oh, can it."

She sighed a bit, standing up as well, deciding she wasn't going to eat after..Roger's ravenous eating. Ugh. That reallly had been rather disgusting.

Libby started up the stairs, fingers dragging up the smooth banister. Roger merely stared at her, unsure of what to say or do.  
"Libby?" he called as she reached the top landing.  
"Yes, Roger?" she asked wearily.  
"I think you'd be a good model."  
She looked back at him with a sort of smile.  
"Thanks, Roger."

She disappeared back into what was her room now, gently shutting the door.  
Roger ran a hand through his hair, feeling a bit awkward, different questions running through his head.

* * *

**TIGGPWNS I LOVE YOU. xD**


	8. The Words

**THE LONG AWAITED CHAPTERRRRRR! **

Bow down to it, kthxbai.

**And and. TiggPwns _does_ pwn. Yay for helping. xD**

**Oh, bow to her, too.**

* * *

_If I only had the words to tell you..If you only had the time to understand!_

_If I only had the urge to tell you.._

_If you only know how hard it is to say!_

_When the simple lines have all been taken.._

_And the radio repeats them ev'ry day.._

_-If I Only Had the Words (To Tell You)_

_

* * *

_

They were sitting on his bed, in his room. It was a bit messy, though he had tried to clean it up the best he could.His miscellaneous items of clothing(brought up from laundry day)were over his chair at the desk, and several books and magazines were sprawled across the wooden surface.  
They stared intently at eachother, cross-legged, merely inches away from eachother.

It was interesting, the reason they were like this.  
They had tackled the fashion part of being 'cool', in generic terms.  
Now, they had to tackle the language and personality part.

Roger had decided to do the language part.

"Come on. Say it," Roger urged, tilting his head just a little bit.  
"..slutface? Why am I calling you that?" she asked, raising her eyebrows, looking a bit uncomfortable.  
"You're not calling _me_ that. We're just practicing insults, remember!" he pointed out, shrugging a bit. "Whore."  
"Are you calling me a whore?" Libby asked, eyes ging wide. "Or..do you want me to use that as an insult? I wish you'd be clearer on that!"

Roger began to laugh, despite the situation. She had obviously never been through Roger Davis' School of Insults and Comebacks.

"I'm telling you to use that as an insult..bitch."  
"Roger! Oh, my GOD. Stop being such an ass--"  
"There! You see! You just insulted me!"  
"Only because you aren't being _clear_," she whined, slumping a bit and pouting at her knees.  
"Fine, fine. Tramp."  
"...Roger, are you..you're frustrating me so much!" she said through gritted teeth, looking ready to rip out her hair at the moment. Her eyes flashed dangerously, as if she was actually going to hurt him.  
"Poor baby."  
"STOP THAT!" Libby cried, giving him a large shove. He grunted a bit, falling over and off the bed with a rather loud 'WHUMP!'. Roger stared down at the carpet for a moment, nose scrunched against it, waiting for the inevitable..  
"Oh! Are you okay!"  
Bingo.

Roger didn't move at first, deciding this needed to be rather careful about how he acted for this. He rubbed his nose harder against the carpet to mke it look that much redder, to make it look like he really was hurt. He was going to milk this for all it was worth.

"Ow!" he mumbled in whiny tones, sitting up and looking at her with a rather hurt expression. "Why the hell'd you do that?"  
"I'm really, really sorry!" she said desperately, sliding off the bed to sit down next tohim, inspecting his face. "What'd I hurt?"  
"My elbow and my nose," Roger replied with a sort of sniff. "Kiss them to make them better!" he whined after a few moments, pouting a bit. She raised an eyebrow, though sighed a bit as he lifted his elbow up. She slowly placed her lips over the slightly rug-burned part.  
"There."  
"Now, my nose," Roger said pointedly, finger moving to lightly poke his nose. Libby looked at him warily, but eventually leaned up to kiss his nose, as well.  
Roger quickly moved his face so that her lips were now on his, smirking inwardly.  
_Score one point for the Rog-Man. _

She pushed him back after a moment, flush creeping up her face.  
"Roger, you..you bastard!" Libby said shrilly, rearing back as if she was going to slap him. She didn't, though leaned forward to kiss him again. Libby pulled back after another moment, still blushing furiously as she hurried from his room.

Roger was leaning against his hands, a very satisfied look on his face.  
He had not only taught her comebacks and name-calling, but, he had given her the first real kiss she had ever recieved.  
Not bad for not having to tell her any feelings.

Roger realized, though, that he would have to tell Libby sometime.  
Ah, if only he had the words.

He supposed it would take more than a day to really think out his emotions.  
Ah, well.

Roger had his friends behind him, he hoped, and he had the whole school day to skip tomorrow.  
Great.

* * *

**There ya'll are. ;D**


	9. Big Shot

**Alrighty.  
I suppose this story needs an update. -dusts it off-  
Ahem.**

**

* * *

**

_Because you had to be a big shot, didn't you? _

You had to open up your mouth.

You had to be a big shot, didn't you?

Yes, yes, you had to be a big shot, didn't you?

You had to prove it to the crowd..

You had to be a big shot, didn't you?

-Big Shot

_**

* * *

**_

"You kissed her?"  
"Uh-huh."  
"Does she know about April?"  
"Pshh."  
"Well, Roger, you're just going to hurt her. One of them."  
"I know."

Roger shrugged his shoulders, leaning against the wall, checking his watch. It was lunchtime, and April was supposed to be out here to meet him. He just hoped, of course, that Libby didn't come and find out. He didn't necessarily want to make her mad or break her heart. In any case, April had been his main squeeze for the last few days. It had been exactly five days since the innocent little kiss in his bedroom, and the first time he was telling anyone. He chose Mark.  
Mark wouldn't tell anyone, anyways. Maybe Jeff or Seymour. Not anyone else, though.

Even then, it would just be news in their small group, something to joke about, something that they could snicker about while getting high.  
Just then, however, in a flash of brilliant red hair, April was next to him, grinning.  
"Hey baby!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around Roger's neck. Roger smirked inwardly, though grinned back to her, putting hands at her waist. Mark rolled his eyes and sauntered out of the little area behind the school, off to the lunchers.

"Hey, yourself," he said, pressing his lips to hers after a moment. It was a long, searing kiss, and she was shortly pressed against the bricks. One of her hands left his neck, fingers splaying out against the red brick. Roger's hands went to either side of her head, body pressing up to her, that teenage want and need getting in the way of any rational thought. He barely heard someone calling from him, barely heard the little gasp of surprise. Roger also barely heard the stomping footsteps away.

April didn't seem phased by them, for the kiss lasted for a while longer.  
Roger pulled back first, bright green eyes staring into April's eyes.  
Wow. She was gorgeous. Her teeth were dazzling white when she smiled at him again, hands moving to his hair.  
"Baby..let's g--"  
She was cut off by the shrill ringing of the bell, and Roger sighed a bit.  
"Hold that thought, April. Let's go to class," he said, remembering his teachers warning him about missing anymore school. Roger put an arm around her waist, and they walked into class. Roger didn't notice Mark leaving, mumbling something to another distressed student.

--

Roger waited for a while outside of school, cigarette inbetween his lips. He had expected Libby to want a ride back to his house again, though she never came out. He sighed, stomped the cigarette out as he got back into his car, going off home.  
When he got home, he saw his mom sitting down, reading something in the living room.  
"Hey, mom!" he called to her, shifting his backpack.  
"Hello, honey," she returned, peering up at him for a moment before looking to her book again.  
"Where's Libby?"  
"She came earlier this afternoon with your other friend. The one with glasses. She said she was going to live with him, instead."

Roger paused, letting this all process for a moment. He blinked, going up to his own room, throwing the backpack in and going off to his sister's room. He went to the closet, looking through everything, finding nothing but his sister's stuff.  
There was a note on the bed, however. He picked it up, staring at it.

_Dear Roger, _

_You're a dick._

_Yours,  
Libby_

He stared at it for a while longer, letting it sink in that he had really fucked up.  
Roger crumpled the piece of paper up, going to his own room, laying down on the bed and throwing an arm across his eyes.  
He had really screwed up this time.  
He just had to be a big-shot about getting a red-head, forget that there was someone else who liked him. Someone who didn't just want his pants down.  
Roger groaned, and found that he wanted to actually do his homework, just to divert his attention to something else.

There was something severely wrong with him. Wanting to do his homework.  
Shit.

--

"Are you done crying now?" he asked, trying to make light of the situation.  
"Why would Roger do this?" Libby said with a whimper, though no tears came out.  
"He's a dick, like you wrote," Mark replied with a shrug, adjusting his glasses a little bit. He patted her shoulder lightly, as Mrs. Cohen made her usual rounds past his open door. She had warily allowed the girl to stay in Cindy's old room. When the situation was explained, however, her heart had softened enough to do it a little less grudgingly.

That didn't mean she couldn't watch the two of them like a hawk.

"I know. I just. I liked him."  
"Ah, well..you'll get over him soon enough and bounce back," Mark said softly, shrugging a bit to himself. He had been trying to comfort her since about noon, it being about six now. It was odd that she had gotten all hung up about this, about Roger sucking face with April. Sure, Libby and him had kissed..but..still..she never seemed to totally be okay with Roger. He sighed a bit, patting her arm, shaking it and looking at her seriously now. "You okay?"  
"Yeah. I'm..fine.." she said, rubbing at red eyes. She looked down at her knees, sighing again. Mark battled with himself for a moment before giving her a friendly hug, rubbing her back in that soothing and comforting way.  
"Just don't cry anymore. He's a big jerk for doing that."  
"Yeah."

She leant her head against his shoulder for a few moments, hugging him back loosely.  
"Thanks for letting me stay with you," Libby said, pulling back, wiping at her eyes. "I need to go to bed..crying tires me out. 'Night."  
"Good night," he returned with a smile, watching her leave to go to 'her' room.

Mark got a book out and read, glad that it was the weekend now. Saturday tomorrow. Then Sunday. Then school  
Two whole days.

..what would he do, though, now that Libby was hurt by Roger?  
He scrunched up his face. He had to side with her on this. Maybe he'd..  
No.  
Mark wasn't dating material.  
He'd introduce her to Jeff.

That would make for a good weekend.

* * *

**Yes. Update. Bow down.**


End file.
